Gasping For Air
by MiLady Oakenshield
Summary: AUTHOR'S NOTE! The Avengers have won, and the fate of Loki Laufeyson is to be decided...
1. Broken

GASPING FOR AIR

By spockslovechild

…..

Chapter One - BROKEN

The pain was agonizing. Torturous, even. He sucked in a gasp for breath and a single cough brought up blood from his lungs. His mouth opened to scream and scream, but his screams were silenced by his pain. Quickly replaced with quiet sobs.

His body lay unmovable amongst a crumbled pile of rubble, debris and shards of glass – several small pieces, of which, had lodged themselves in Loki's temple; in a deep gash opened above his brow line with thick, red blood trickling down the left side of his face. His chest rose slowly, but only slight. It was hard for him to tell what was broken and what wasn't; but easy enough for him to tell. His ribcage burned. His lungs ached. Everything just shy of his mid-section felt twisted in on themselves.

And then there was the pounding. The un-godly, maddening pounding. It was nauseating. And it wouldn't stop. Loki shut his eyes and tried to think of other thinks but his thoughts were quickly over taken by the constant pounding. His head swirled with visions of black clouds; smoke and fire, destruction outside these walls. The crater his body created rocked his slender frame. The broken tiles splintered out in all directions around him.

Loki flexed his fingers, each one aching as badly as the one before it. But there was something else. His entire left arm felt numb. There was no pain. There was nothing. The limb felt completely foreign to him. He used his more functional hand to lift his weightless arm from the ground and drape it over his chest.

He bit the interior of his cheek, and then pulled himself up. Only pain followed. Terrible, nail-biting pain. He tried to inhale but the only thing to come of it was a wheezing, hacking cough. Loki's fingers pressed along his weightless arm and continued upward until his arm connected to his shoulder.

Or should, anyway. The shoulder bone had been dislodged from its socket. Grasping it tightly, Loki worked it slowly back into place. _SNAP!_ It was just momentary. The surge of pain jumped up his arm to his neck. The demi-god shut his eyes, tightly, and bit down on his lower lip. Enough to draw blood. But he could move his arm again. He pressed his right hand against the battered floor and attempted to push himself to his feet. But he faltered, and his knees buckled under the weight.

Loki grimaced as he fell onto his belly. His stomach twisted in knots. He began to pull himself towards the two-step staircase leading to the bar. It's funny; only an hour earlier, Tony Stark was offering him a drink. He could sure go for that drink right about now. As his right hand reached the top step, something caught his ear. Like a buzzing sound only… not. The Trickster demi-god twisted his body around and collapsed backward on the steps. His chest heaved greatly. The pounding was back. Only this time, Loki realized it was his heart. His eyelids closed for half a second before opening again, this time to greet a familiar crowd of faces.

The Avengers.

**A/N:** _I realize this is a short chapter. The next one will be longer. Promise! Please read and review. I FEED on comments... and brownies :)_


	2. Bleeding

GASPING FOR AIR

By spockslovechild

…...

Chapter Two – BLEEDING

His brother, the demi-god; a super soldier living legend, who kind of lived up to that legend; a man with breath-taking anger management issues; a couple of master assassins; the metal knight – and Loki had managed to piss every single one of them. And despite the way his eyes danced between them, they were always drawn back to the arrow drawn and aimed for his chest. It kept him down. But Hawkeye didn't need to threaten him with the arrow to keep him down; the pain his body registered was more than enough to cripple him. Still, his heart thudded harder at the thought.

Loki tried smiling but his mouth filled with blood. He collected a dollop of it on his tongue, twisted his head to the side and spit it out. Maybe he would die here. Save the Avengers the trouble. Lord knows out of the six of them, more than half would love the thought of ending his life right there. And if he played his cards right, Thor would show him sympathy at the end.

The injured Trickster grunted as he pulled himself back, blinking blood from his vision. They must love him in this state. Loki planted his right hand against the undamaged tile – because his left was still aching – and attempted to give himself enough of a push to climb to his feet. But even as he got his body a few inches off the ground, he collapsed backward and this time, his head rolled back to the floor. His breathing had become somewhat of a struggle for him. They must be expecting him to make a move but the only one he did make was the pained, weakened rise and fall of his chest.

Thor pushed himself through his teammates and ignored their gazes until he reached his brother's side and came down to his knees. His electric blue eyes searched Loki's body for any other obvious sign of injury. Then he grasped his red cape and tore a sliver from it. Thor pressed it to his brother's bleeding forehead. Loki spasmed, either from the abrupt pain or being touched in such a comforting way.

He looked past his brother, past the dimmed lighting, to something else entirely. Death, perhaps? His vision blurred as if pieces of the ceiling were coming together all at once. Loki had never been scared before. Never in his life been terrified of anything. But now, suddenly, the thought of dying at the hands of a mere mortal is shaking him to the core.

The Thunder God coaxed his brother's battered body into his arms and lifted him as he stood. Loki made no objects, as every muscle in his body betrayed him. Turning, Thor walked past his teammates, ignoring their stares and their questioning glances, towards the entrance they came through.

As Hawkeye lowered his arrow, Captain America exchanged bewildered, confused looks with Black Widow and Iron Man. Then he reached up to his right ear for the ear piece that had been implanted and previous hidden by a blue mask.

"Director Fury, this is Captain America. Do you copy?"

…...

Even with all the noise and clatter behind him, Nick Fury was able to remain stoic and composed. There wasn't a trace of fault in his hardened expression. And he knew it had something to do with the fact he was trying to remain as calm as possible. One of his best agents dead, and the world saved from mortal danger. But even with that thought, he still remained apprehensive about where things were going to go. No doubt a long, and quite possibly angry, discussion with the board members about this.

As Fury stepped over a small lump of metal debris, and noted Agent Hill at the computer, his headset picked up a bit of static. He stopped suddenly, and brought a hand to his earpiece. He adjusted the way it conformed to his ear as if he presumed to think it would help with the sound.

"Hill," he said as he moved closer to her, kicking a piece of metal away from him. "Put Rogers on speaker."

"Yes sir."

And after a few clicks of buttons and pradde of fingernails, the static Fury had been hearing was now thundering through the main bridge of the aircraft.

"… _Fury… _" Static. "_…do you copy…?_" More static. "_This is… America…"_

Fury's brows knitted together. "Hill, clean that mess up."

"Yes sir."

"Rogers, can you hear me?" He spoke clearly, but emphasized the tone in his voice, and the pitch he spoke in, to make it loud enough for any of the team to hear him.

…...

"I can hear you loud and clear, sir," Rogers responded with, briefly taking a step away from his teammates.

…...

There a brief hint of relief that flittered across Fury's face.

"What is your position?"

…...

"Stark Tower."

…...

"I can have transport to you within twenty minutes…"

…...

There was a moment of liberation in Roger's thoughts, before his expression deceived him and he remembered the semi-conscious demi-god clinging helplessly to life in Thor's arms.

"…and sir, have a medical team standing by."

…...

"Who is hurt?" Fury's breath caught in his throat, but he didn't let the panic overwhelm him. He needed to be as stoic and as guarded as ever.

He looked momentarily to Hill, who shared this unspoken sentiment with him. And she knew. He was worried something might have happened to them. One or all of them. Rogers was speaking clearly enough, but that could always be a rouse.

…...

His brain was telling him to not care about it, but his consciousness was telling his heart something different. He tried not showing his resentment and his anger when he spoke next.

"Sir, it's Loki. Thor's brother."

…...

"…" He was asking himself why he should give a damn about a man who single-handed started a war, and even exchanged this quiet pondering question between himself and Hill but soon realized death was not the type of justice the God of Mischief should be held to. He must face the accountability for his actions.

"I'll have a jet on the landing strip in fifteen…"

…...

In true Nick Fury fashion, he had a jet to them within the fifteen minutes he promised.

Words between the Avengers had been silent as they shuffled onto the jet. Banner had remained back while his hulking green form diminished. Thor had laid his brother on a make-shift cot by the window. But the color in his face had drained when his eyes fell to the younger man's face.

Somewhere between the wait and the time it took to board the small aircraft, unconsciousness finally claimed the younger demi-god. Thor's heart collected in his throat. Rogers shuffled himself around until he was put between Loki and that which separated him from the cockpit. He reached for the Trickster's wrist, slid the black sleeve up to reveal the naked skin and pressed two fingers to Loki's pulse point.

Thor was concerned, but did not let this cross through into expression. He kept those feelings bottled and just concentrated his vision on his brother's beaten face. If not for the dried blood caked in with fresh liquid, the Trickster might appear calm and tranquil.

Stark buckled himself in and looked over to Rogers. "I don't get it," he said. "Loki's a demi-god. An Asgardian, like Thor. Shouldn't he be like, I don't know, healing by now?"

"Normally, yes," Thor answered, before Rogers even got the chance.

"Then why is Stars-And-Stripes over there making it look like Loki is dying?" He caught a look from Barton, who seemed completely unphased by this. It was clear where his thoughts of the subject were.

"Loki has been on Midgard far longer than I. Even the Allfather's powers are weakened on Earth."

"Remind me again why we're suddenly giving a rat's ass about him?" Barton piped up, which was likely a question on everyone's minds. With the exception of Thor, perhaps. He really didn't need to ask what was going through the Thunder God's brain.

Thor's teeth came down against his bottom lip.

"You know why, Agent Barton," Rogers snapped. He didn't like this anymore than the rest of them did.

Folding his arms over his chest, Barton leaned back against his seat as the bridge lifted and the jet peeled away from the small landing area.

Romanoff put a hand against Barton's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

**A/N:** _It's longer than my last chapter but not completely filled with Loki-angst. This is supposed to be a story of more than just yummy demi-god angst. It's supposed to feature hurt/comfort involving Black Widow too. But that will be revealed in time too._

_Worried about Loki? Does he make it? Does his regenerative healing save him from Valhalla? The next person to review gets a free Loki-colored cookie. I promise it won't be filled with worms. Thor still holds a grudge against his brother for that last trick of his… _


	3. Beaten

GASPING FOR AIR

By spockslovechild

…...

Chapter Three – BEATEN

Natasha Romanoff was exhausted and covered in blood.

Not just her blood. A lot of it wasn't her own. In fact, most of it wasn't hers. It clung to every inch of her body like a pest she couldn't be free of. And the smell of it was nauseating.

As soon as she could, the Russian spy retired to her quarters and stripped off every weapon she had. Every gun she carried in her arsenal placed down on a small table next to her belt. Natasha pulled at the inside zipper of her combat boots and slid them off her feet. She left them sitting there alone on the floor, next to a picture frame that had fallen from the table and splintered. Natasha fell to her bed and peeled back to white socks, which had since taken on a deep yellow and red hue; soaked with a mix of sweat and blood.

Natasha nursed a swollen ankle – a nice, solid black and purple bruise surrounding the bone and heel – as she limped her way to the bathroom. She ran the water as hot as she could stand it, then reached behind her and tugged down the zipper of her suit. Unzipping was the easy part. Wriggling her body free of the suit was something else entirely. Every last nerve ending screamed at her. But once she did manage to get it off her arms and down her legs, Natasha stepped out of it – and her laced panties – then reached around her back to unclasp her bra, letting it glide down her arms.

She pushed back the plastic curtain and stepped in, then turned around and tilted her head back, letting the hot water soak her red hair. It brought instant relief to the numerous bruises marring her body. But this relief would only last her so long, and it wouldn't erase the last week from her life. Natasha Romanoff was scarred; mentally, physically… in every way possible.

No matter how hard the water pounded her skin, no matter how hot it was, she couldn't shake the feeling of Loki's mental mind games from her brain. What he said to her before. It was a conversation not even Clint was privy to. She couldn't tell him. How could she? He asked. He practically prodded. But he would never know of it. And he would never understand it.

And, just like that, her mind was on Loki. Why? Because of what he did to her? No. For the reason that he was laying unconscious in the Recovery Room just down the hall. It was insane. He should be dead. By all accounts, Clint should have loosened that arrow into Loki's skull. Then made they would sleep better. But, no. As Rogers said – they 'owed it' to Thor. Maybe she would be more understanding if she were in Thor's position, and having to seeing a younger sibling in a similar state, but Natasha couldn't fathom it.

She shouldn't even be thinking about Loki. He should be the furthest thing from her mind. She shut her eyes and only pictured the inside of her eyelids. She tried to reach into her memories and pull from it something less dreadful. Less painful. The last time she was at the beach. Clint was wearing his brand new Nike trunks and she was dressed in a black and red blended string bikini. Her lips curled as Natasha recalled Clint picking her up and tossing her into the ocean, taking several back kicks in the process. Good memories like that are what kept her sane. Calm. Collected. Peac –

"_Hello, Agent Romanoff_."

Natasha's stomach dropped. She knew that voice. The icy black of darkness cutting through silence like a knife through butter. Peeling her out of her thoughts.

Could Loki be affecting her like he affected Clint?

She peeled her eyelids open, and almost screamed. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. How? No, not possible. He was unconscious in the other room. He couldn't be here. Not now. She reached for her weapon before she came to realize she didn't have one.

He stood as naked as she. Emotionless, save for the grin painting his lips.

Natasha took a step back. "H-How…?"

"_Isn't this how you want me, Agent Romanoff_?" His grin widened, taunting her further. He took a step forward until his mere presence had her backed into the wall.

"No..." She shut her eyes again, and gave her head a shake, trying to get this away from her.

But when she opened her eyes again, there he was. Natasha gave a scream, but he had a hand over her mouth before that scream could even pass her lips.

He pressed his right palm against the tile wall behind her and leaned in close, until he could hear her heavy breathing, and feel it on her face. He dropped his hand from the wall to her bare shoulder, then ached his fingers across her collar bone and down the center of her chest. He felt her heart racing. It gave him pleasure.

He pressed himself harder against her body until his crotch rubbed against the inside of her left thigh. He felt her shudder under the touch. And his lips twisted further into madness.

"_Are you…afraid of me… Natasha?_"

Natasha swallowed a lump in her throat.

He leaned his mouth in close to her right ear, until his breath tickled her warm skin. "_You should be…_"

She shut her eyes again, tighter than before. She kept willing him to go away. Kept telling herself this was just one of her nightmares. That when she opened her eyes again, he wouldn't be standing there in front of her.

Natasha opened her eyes.

But he wasn't standing there anymore. It was just her alone in the shower. As it was before. He seemed so real though. There was nothing about him that didn't feel real to her. She felt him breathing on her neck, the groin that rubbed against her thigh, the hand over her mouth.

She consciously reached out to where he was; half-convinced she'd still be able to feel him. Nothing. Just the air around her smacking the back of her hand.

Natasha's body crumpled beneath her as she slithered to the porcelain ground and gathered her knees up to her chest.

…...

Twenty minutes later, Natasha sat cross-legged on her bed with just a towel wrapped around her shoulders. For reasons unknown, she hadn't gotten dressed. She wanted to scream. More than anything, she wanted to wrap her hands around Loki's throat and watch his life drain from his eyes.

Her thoughts pulled her away so much that she didn't hear when the door opened, or see the man slipping in through the crack. Not until he called her name and she looked up to see a familiar face. But by then, tears had streaked her eyes in a way they hadn't before. Not even when she knocked out Clint to free him of Loki's spell over him.

It wasn't until the person drew closer that he saw her face and the tears that had stained her skin. Lack of clothing didn't register in his brain until he was sitting down next to her and noticed how fiercely she had been holding that pastel green towel around her naked body. He reached out to touch her, but she recoiled and his lips creased into a frown. She never did that. But he was aware of how her body trembled and thought for a second she might be afraid of him. Maybe thought he was still under Loki's control or he could easily slip back into it. But that didn't make sense, given the time to consider it.

He reached out for her shoulder again, and this time she didn't pull back. "Tasha," he said in a soft tone. Only one person referred to her as Tasha. To everyone else, she was Natasha or Agent Romanoff. To Clint Barton, she was simply Tasha or Nat.

"Don't…"

Clint arched a brow. "Tasha, wha – "

She met his eyes. "Please. Just… don't. I don't want to talk about it. Please don't ask me. Please, just… " Her shoulders arched forward as she trembled, more tears streaking her face.

Silent as she wanted, he gathered her into his arms and held her there. He stroked her wet hair and gently rubbed her bare shoulders. He had never seen her like this before.

Something must have gotten to her.

**A/N:** _Hey all! I apologize for the long wait. I was having trouble with this chapter. Every time I started one thing, I erased it and did something else. But here it is. Hot off the computer – so to speak. LOL. Thirty-eight people put this story on alert. That's amazing! I've never had that happen before. Clearly I'm doing something right._


	4. Bruised

GASPING FOR AIR

By spockslovechild

…...

Chapter Four – BRUISED

Natasha stood silent outside the Recovery Room with arms folded carelessly over her chest. If not for her nightmarish vision, she wouldn't even be here. But she needed to know. Was it something caused by her subconscious or did Loki play one of his illusion tricks again?

She watched with mild curiosity the exchange between the brothers, though she couldn't hear their conversation and only subtly read their lips as they moved with each formed syllable. They had been like this for a good hour or so by her recollection while everyone else either wondered why the Trickster was still here or, if he intended to stay longer than his recovery allowed. It still amazed Natasha he hadn't yet healed properly from all of his inflicted wounds. Shouldn't he have by now? He was a demi-god, after all. Shouldn't he have some kind of ability to heal himself? Or, maybe that was taken away from him when his scepter was. Lord knows Natasha didn't give a shit either way. But the thought still consumed her mind.

And she wondered when he would be leaving. Was the King of Asgard deciding Loki's fate? Would Thor be returning to their home within the day? How long, exactly, would coming up with an appropriate punishment for the demi-god take anyway? Left up to her own devices, Natasha would have killed him. But Thor wouldn't allow that. Clint and the others would be all for it. And she would be the first in line.

He was awake. She could go in there. But the last time she was alone in a room with him didn't play out in her favor. She may have gotten the information she needed by playing Loki at his own game but his words still haunted her. Every second of every day. Natasha was apprehensive about putting herself in that kind of position again. She'd be vulnerable, in every sense of the word.

She stared through the glass with eyes no longer fixed on the Asgardian brothers but on another spot on the opposite wall. It distracted her so much that the silence which over took her and her surroundings didn't prepare her for the slam of a fist against the interior of the glass.

Natasha jumped back with a startled gasp, dropping her arms from her chest. She blinked. She had to be seeing things again, like in the shower. Was she? When her eyes fluttered open, he stood there pressed against the glass, his brows knitted together. A tight scowl on his lips. His eyes were murderous.

"_I won't kill him_," he stated, his voice booming and threatening, "_not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately; in every way he knows you fear!_"

Gasping, she turned away from the window.

"_He'll wake long enough to see his good work and when he screams, I'll split his skull!_"

Natasha closed her eyes tightly and put her back to the window, as she put her back to the glass enclosed prison meant for something a lot stronger than the raven-haired demi-god.

"_This is my bargain you mewling quim!_"

"Friend Romanoff…?"

Wiping at the tears collected in her eyes, Natasha turned at the sound of the voice she knew didn't belong to the Trickster but his older brother, Thor.

Seeing her eyes, he looked sympathic. "What brings tears to your eyes?"

"Nothing," she lied. "I'm fine." Natasha glanced past the Thunder God's shoulders to the man strapped to a hospital bed on the other side of the glass. "How is he?"

"He is awake, but he complains of pain." He followed her line of sight to where she looked. He, too, studied the demi-god on the bed, positioned upwards. "I do not understand. He should have healed by now."

"Why hasn't he?" She asked as if she cared. At least her tone of voice portrayed that. What was wrong with her? She shouldn't care if Loki was in pain or not.

Thor looked back to her, shaking his head. "I am unsure. If not completely, than at least partially. But the wound on his forehead still bleeds."

"I'll take a look."

He smiled. "You are very kind to my brother, Friend Romanoff. I do not expect you to show him kindness after what he has befallen your earth." Thor put a hand to her shoulder.

"Natasha," she said. "My name is Natasha. It's okay to call me by my name you know."

"Natasha."

She watched Thor leave her standing there and walk the opposite direction down the hallway. Turning away once he was out of sight, Natasha focused her gaze back on the demi-god through the window. He didn't appear to be struggling from his restraints. Though her eyes could be betraying her, like they have done twice now. This could just be another one of Loki's illusions to fool her.

Swallowing a tiny lump in her throat, Natasha took a step towards the door and unlatched it.

…...

Loki twisted his dark green eyes away from the ceiling when he heard the door opening. Thinking it might be his brother returning to him for more so-called "conversation", he was prepared to get angry. He could snap at Thor for even bothering to presume her could come back.

But when he looked to the opened door, and the person walking into the room, his previous assumption faded; replaced by what could only be described as shock.

"Agent Romanoff," he started, his voice already in a fixed tone. "To what to I owe this displeasure?" He asked her, not quite sure if he really wanted her to leave or not. He felt like fighting against his restraints but doing so when Thor was in the room had taught him it was futile.

"Thor told me you weren't healing," she answered, as matter-of-fact and as bluntly as possible. A quick once-over of the area above Loki's brow line confirmed Thor's comment. Natasha bee lined to a gun-metal grey tray where she grabbed a first-aid with the necessary equipment – suture needles, thread, antiseptic, surgical gloves, medical tape, and scissors.

Loki tried sitting up more. "This really isn't necessary…"

"You're right. It's not… " Natasha pushed over a chair to the right side of the bed. "…but I told your brother I would take a look. He seemed concerned and I owe it to him. So shut up and be grateful I'm doing this."

She left the first aid kit there on the chair – knowing Loki wouldn't be able to reach for the sharp scissors or the needles because he was restrained to the bed – and crossed over to the sink in the bathroom. She ran the hot water for a few moments, soaping up her hands and scrubbing them clean. She grabbed a paper towel and rubbed her hands dry then tossed out the soiled towel as she left the bathroom.

The demi-god watched her with mild interest. She crossed back to the chair and grabbed the first aid kit. Natasha immediately donned a pair of blue surgical gloves from inside the kit, and wriggled her fingers slightly to make sure each glove was seated firmly and comfortably. She reached out to the gun-metal grey tray and pulled it closer.

Leaning close to her patient, she carefully and cautiously inspected the wound. "It looks like some pieces of glass are still in there…" Her fingers prodded the edges of skin, pushing them apart just slightly to get a better look at what she had to work with, and took a slight twisted pleasure in watching Loki's expression twist.

Keeping the edges of the wound spread with her fingers, Natasha reached into the kit for a small alcohol pad and ripped into it with her teeth, then rubbed it on both sides of the scissors' teeth. She started removing each tiny shard of glass and discarding the bloody pieces on the grey tray. As the last piece of glass was removed, she put the bloodied scissors on the tray then grabbed for the antiseptic.

"You act like you've done this before… for someone else… "

Natasha kept silent, but her expression told Loki everything. More than a few times before she had seen Clint in the same bed Loki was in now, with her sitting in a small chair beside him, cleaning and stitching whatever wounds that needed the care.

She was quick to thread the curved suture needle sterilized with a second alcohol pad. Next came the pain and she didn't care enough to numb the area beforehand. Taking some sadistic pride in it. Natasha pushed the tip of the needle through the flesh and started threading it through the other side. The demi-god cringed. He recognized the pain, and accepted it.

Loki moved his eyes, without tilting his head or arching his brows. "You're enjoying this," he stated, catching the change in her expression. "I know you are."

"Just stop talking and hold still."

The Trickster relented, and relinquished himself to silence. It's not like he could go anywhere.

**A/N:** _WOW!_ _Over 50 alerts! That's fucking AMAZING. And the reviews I'm getting are unbelievable. Thank you so much everyone. Oh, and please go to my profile page for a poll. I'll try to make the next chapter longer._


	5. Busted

GASPING FOR AIR

By spockslovechild

…...

Chapter Five – BUSTED

Natasha closed up the wound and snipped off the tail end of the thread. Leaning back from the demi-god, she replaced the scissors on the tray and removed the blue medical gloves, giving a toss of the soiled items into the tiny metal trash can. She grabbed for a small jar of cream and twisted the lid off. The yellowish lid clattered to the metal tray, stopping next to the first-aid kit still lying open and exposed. Natasha rubbed some of the cream onto her fingers then applied it to Loki's forehead.

He smirked at the care she was giving him. No one would have expected it; not even him. Not after the destruction he caused. No doubt they'd be part of the clean up for months to come. Meanwhile, he and Thor would be returning home to Asgard. He'd face trail, likely get imprisoned for centuries – or worse, _death_ – and that would be that, as the mortals here say so often.

As Natasha pulled her hand back, she caught the Trickster's smirk and gave one of her own, though it more closely resembled a frown than an actual smirk. "What in _God's_ name is so funny?"

"Of all people, Agent Romanoff, _you_ are the last person I expected to be touching me," Loki said with a sneer. He was taking pleasure in this all too well.

"Don't get too comfortable with it." Oh, the things she could do with those scissors.

"Speaking of getting comfortable…" Loki's voice dragged off as he struggled at his restraints, making it seem they were barring down too tightly on his wrists. "You, by any chance, couldn't loosen up these restraints? They are rather cumbersome."

Natasha scoffed at the idea. "You hit your head pretty hard, I think."

She slid the chair back and stood, then recapped the jar and left it on the metal try as she bee lined for the bathroom. She flipped on the hot water tab and ran her hands under the silver faucet. She kept her hands there for several seconds afterward, and even contemplated storming from the Recovery Room. Heaving a sigh, Natasha turned the faucet off then grabbed for a paper towel. She dried her hands quickly then tossed the filthy towel into the tin trash can.

As Natasha turned to exit the bathroom, she stopped short. Something had caught her eye. It wasn't Loki or rather the absence of the trickster. She held back a gasp.

The bed was empty.

She sprang from the door's archway towards the empty bed, and the restraints that now lay open and bare. Completely void of the wrists and ankles they held there before. Her stomach dropped. How was she supposed to explain this? Thinking fast on her feet, Natasha fled to the intercom link on the wall only to suddenly be hurled back until her spine and the adjoining wall met.

She hissed through her teeth. And something immediately wrapped over her throat. She blinked her eyes closed only once. When she opened them, Loki was staring back at her. His green eyes burrowing into hers. How easily these mortals could be fooled.

Natasha seemed astonished; the bruises on his chest and stomach were gone. The gash on his forehead vanished as if it had never been. By all accounts, he appeared perfectly healthy. And then she was mentally scolding herself for falling for one of his tricks. It was an illusion! All of it! Just an illusion to fool her; to fool EVERYONE!

Her hand came up to wrap over his wrist. She gave it a twist, hoping the friction would be enough for him to release her throat. But his grip only tightened. His hand was choking her. And Loki was enjoying it. "You pathetic mortals are all too easy," he said wryly.

"Loki…" She managed, through a horsed, pained gasp.

"What?"

Gritting her teeth together, Natasha brought up a knee between his legs. Loki reeled back, dropping his hand immediately from her throat giving her enough lee way to bolt for the door.

But he was not incapacitated for long.

The trickster recovered quickly and sprang after her, catching her by the shoulders just as her hand reached for the door handle and a scream erupted from her throat. He pinned her for a second time against the wall and covered a hand over her mouth.

He watched her chest rise rapidly. Her heat thudded hard against her ribcage. The close proximity he had to her brought back nostalgic memories of the night before. That wasn't an illusion; that was real. Just as real as he was now. He had appeared to her then. Not just some twisted trick her mind was playing with her. And he was now, still playing tricks with her. She began to wonder how long it had all been an illusion.

How long he had been out of those restraints. It couldn't have been when she had gone to the bathroom to wash up. It had to have been before, and he was tricking her eyes to see something different. Had he done the same to Thor? In fact, how long had he been keeping this illusion of his up? Was he really all that injured as his body showed that day in Stark Tower? Or was it all some deluded scheme from the beginning to gain some last bit of sympathy from them?

Natasha bit down on his palm until she drew blood. Loki drew his hand back then brought it down against her face, swearing to her underneath his breath. Her head flung sideways. Loki grabbed her jaw and turned her face in order to force her to look into his eyes. She'd see the narrowing of his brows. The twisted crease in his lips. Oh, she had done it this time.

He leaned in close, and whispered something entirely inaudible in her ear. Whatever was said was enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She opened her mouth to speak, and was immediately cut off when Loki's mouth came down to crush against her lips. Her eyes widened in surprise. At first, Natasha didn't fight him. She stood there paralyzed by his lips. She didn't think. She didn't have that capacity. Her mind was a total blank. It would be easy now for Loki to fill the void with more of his lies.

When she finally did manage to get her good sense back, Natasha groaned against his mouth and pushed her hands into an area somewhere between his solar plexus and his liver. This action forced the trickster back, and enough of a distraction for Natasha to regain movement of her limbs. She made every attempt for the door again until his hand was taking possessive control of her jaw and slamming the back of her head into the wall.

She slumped to the floor in a daze, and Loki stood towering over her. Her head tilted but her vision blurred so much that it was hard to differentiate between what was reality and what wasn't. She tried to push herself up against the wall to stand but a hand on her shoulder forced her down to her backside. Natasha groaned. As the God of Mischief crouched on his haunches in front of her, and put himself eye-level with the assassin, he grinned.

Then he reached out for her knife, and she knew it was over.

…...

"You're an asshole," Natasha bluntly stated while still coming from her daze, as her vision continued to swirl around her though slowly tightened the blurred imagines in front of her eyes.

Loki gave a teasing smirk. "I know."

"Are you going to kill me?"

"I haven't decided." His eyes cast downward, fixed on the knife he twirled against his knee. Then he thought about something that made the corners of his lips curl. "He fancies you."

"Who?"

Loki's face deadpanned. "Barton." He studied her face, and had trouble reading her. "Surely even you could see that. Even when I was in his mind, I could see that clearly. No man would have given away such details to me about a woman he wasn't in love with."

Her head throbbed. She was in dire need of an aspirin, or a good beer. Mixing alcohol and pills was a bad combination indeed but it was better than this.

"You're grasping."

"Am I?" Setting the knife down by his left calf, Loki reached into the right pocket in his trousers and produced a small wallet-sized photo. "This was in his jacket." He put the picture on the ground and slid it across to her.

Natasha picked it up from the ground and turned it over.

The photo depicted a younger looking Natasha with her right leg draped over the arm rest of a chair and the other barely hanging onto it. In her hands was a book. On her face was a pair of black reading glasses. She wore one of Clint's oversized long-sleeved button ups, with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her frumpy red hair spilled over her shoulders.

She flipped it over to read the date inscribed on the back. According to the date written in red pen, this photo was taken not too long after Clint's birthday. It had been little over a year since she joined The Avengers Initiative. And she hadn't even been aware this picture was taken until well after the fact. From the look on her face, Loki concluded she didn't even know the picture existed until now.

She felt a tight swell in her heart. She had been confused enough about the picture being taken, and further more by the fact Clint actually kept it.

Natasha looked over to see the trickster grinning. "What is it?"

"You didn't know he had that, did you?" Now Loki was amused.

She shook her head. "No." Natasha didn't seem angry, but rather confused and bewildered. In a sense, she found it touching. Not so much so with the thought of Loki having it.

"As I said, he fancies you…"

She studied the picture again, almost believing it to be another one of Loki's dirty tricks. It would seem much more plausible for the God of Mischief to have conjured something up like this. Knowing her relationship to Clint, it wouldn't take much for the trickster. He had done it once before and enjoyed doing it then. Playing with her heart was one of his specialties.

But Natasha had had enough. Dropping the picture to the floor, she made for a lunge at Loki, striking out at his head with a balled fist. The trickster caught her wrist mid-swing and grinned, and then tugged her in closer until he was breathing on her. Natasha struggled to get free but the more she struggled, the tighter Loki's grip on her wrist became. She threw up a hand to his chest and pushed against it.

"You mortals." The trickster had chuckled. "Always ready for some a fight."

Her brows narrowed. "We beat you didn't we?"

"That you did, madam. But, I do believe I am the one who tricked you all into believing I was more gravely injured than I really was. And like an idiot, you fell for it."

Natasha balled her right hand into a fist and pulled it back from Loki's chest. Gritting her teeth, she brought it down against him, hard, only for him to have caught her other wrist before the blow could have connected. Her fingers slowly uncurled. Her open palmed hand rested there with Loki's positioned over it. His thin chest was rising in an even state, as opposed to hers which moved twice as fast.

What surprised the female agent wasn't the fact he hadn't killed her yet – though she was next to positive he was planning on doing so – but what she could _feel_.

Thump thump... thump thump... thump thump

Natasha blinked. All this time and she believed Loki incapable of having a heart. Now she was feeling it beating at a steady pace under her palm.

"Wow," she said, almost sardonically. "So you _do_ have a heart under there."

"Surprised?"

A little.

Loki drew her attention. His sea green eyes burrowed deep into hers, in a way that neither put her in a spell nor demanded she give herself to him. But there was something in him that confused him. Without thinking, he pulled her forward even more until her lips pressed hard against his.

The agent was taken aback for the third time in less than a few hours. This has never happened to her before. The worst of it being from Loki. The illusions had been one thing; she had expected it from him. But the kiss was something different. Something she hadn't expected, or wanted. Natasha had kissed many men before though something about this one stirred a different kind of feeling in her. She didn't pull back from him nor did she continue to encourage the onslaught.

It was Loki who cupped her lower jaw and moved in to alter the kiss. His lips moved against hers so gently that Natasha forgot for a second that it was the God of Mischief her lips were kissing. His heartbeat quickened, and feeling it beating harder made her feel excited. This feeling scared her.

Before further action could be taken, Natasha pulled back from his lips with a gasp. She didn't raise a hand to strike him but looked into his eyes with shock. The trickster had smiled. Nothing about their position had changed and he was beginning to see something different within her that had nothing to do with the Hawk.

"…and I believe yours is reserved for someone else."

**A/N:** _OOOH! So, who do you think this 'someone else' is who Loki is referring to_?

_Sorry this took so long to get out! I wanted it to be good. Thank you again for all the WONDERFUL reviews. All these reviews help me to further along the story and try to give everyone something enjoyable to read._

_I wanted to point out that while I DO enjoy the Loki and Natasha ship, I see it as a guilty pleasure on her part. Whereas I would see the Clint and Natasha paring as more nature. For those of you who may or may not know, they did have a small relationship in the comics. But most of us know she went with Steve Rogers by the end. _

_As always, pleasure continued to review. I will have freshly baked Loki shaped oatmeal raisin cookies for you in the next installment :)_


	6. Berated

GASPING FOR AIR

By spockslovechild

…...

Chapter Six – BERATED

She was an expert in covert and espionage, seduction techniques and martial arts. She was an effective strategist, tactician and field commander. Natasha could hack into most computer systems without tripping an alarm or even batting an eyelash. But it had taken her over an hour to track down one man on a helicarrier. He was in his nest as usual, working on grafting his tricks arrows to make them better. He didn't even know she was there until the wallet-sized photo was in front of him. And even then, he didn't stop right away, only glanced over what he was doing to notice it was there. He leaned forward to pick it up, and then looked over his left shoulder to see the woman standing behind him.

Natasha's hands were on her hips, but in no way did she look mad or disappointed. She looked confused. And that confusion was made all the more real by the notion it was Loki who gave that picture to her and not Clint. The fact the Hawk kept it in his pocket for so long didn't faze her as much as she thought it would. It was just a bit strange and discouraging. Despite the closeness she shared with her teammate and colleague, they had never moved past anything other than friendship and trust.

But this; this changed _everything_.

"That was in Loki's pocket," she quipped without missing a beat, or waiting for a question she knew was on Clint's mind. But she saw how his expression betrayed him when she mentioned where she got it, and was all set with a second answer before the question reached the assassin's lips. "Read the date, Clint. On the back."

Clint flipped it over. "This was taken over a year ago."

"Exactly." She grabbed the trick arrow out of his hand, which drew his attention to her face, so he could see her changing expression. "You've had this for over a year. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Tasha, I – " He meant to answer her question with something of an explanation, but that thought was pushed aside by another. One that revolved around the means in which Natasha acquired the photo. It was in his pocket for the longest time but he never once gave it to Loki, or even gave him the indication he had it. Even under the trickster's control. It bugged Clint enough to forgo giving Natasha an answer. " – Wait, why was this in _Loki's_ pocket?"

"Does it matter?" Her arms crossed over the swell of her breasts.

"Well, yes, it does." For now, Clint had abandoned the project he was working on. He wouldn't have been able to concentrate with this thought pounding his brain; and he already had enough of Loki swimming around in there to make him sick to his stomach. It churned even now. "How did Loki get it if this was with me?"

"The _whole_ time?" She pressed, knowing there was no way he could have been in control of what he did and did not have on him when he was being controlled.

Clint bit his bottom lip, and then pulled his upper jaw back. "Tasha, what did Loki tell you?"

"He… " She had to stop for a moment and consider her words. Conversations with Loki normally didn't last any longer than a few minutes to half an hour. "He said some things… about you." As Natasha uncurled her arms from her chest and sat down next to him, she kicked her legs over the side of the railing.

Intriguing.

"Really? What about?" This had pulled at Clint's mind enough to make him more than mildly interested, but also wary since it involved Loki and god help him should he hurt Natasha.

She sighed. "Well, he – " She thought about her talk with Loki; about how Clint was supposedly in love with her and she didn't see that. Natasha closed her eyes, but all she could see was the trickster god sitting on the cold floor twirling her knife in his most dominant hand. That wasn't all she saw. The next time she opened her eyes and looked at Clint, she saw Loki. For half a second, she considered the possibility that Loki was still possessing Clint's mind before dismissing that notion. Her lips tingled with the kiss he should never have given her. And her heart was beating hard, hoping said kiss would not become a scar. "Never mind."

Natasha moved to get to her feet, but Clint had reached out to grab her hand and effectively stop her from rising and leaving him there. "Don't you dare leave." He pulled himself to his feet but had yet to release the grip on her hand. "You can't just come in here, throwing stuff at me, telling me Loki said shit to you and expect me to ignore it because you changed your mind."

She shot a look over her shoulder, one that changed drastically. "Let me go, Clint."

"No." If possible, his grip tightened. "Don't just blow me off, Tasha. I won't let you do that. What the fuck did Loki tell you?" He watched her expression change but never once took his eyes off of her. It wasn't until he looked into her eyes and caught something there that his stance changed. "Tasha – " His tone lowered and the grip he held on her hand lessened. "…what did Loki do to you?"

"Clint, don't. He – " Natasha closed her eyes, and he could see the tiniest of tears escaping. This surprised him. She never cried before, and it got him thinking that he almost didn't want to know what happened.

"Nat… " He gave her hand a squeeze, but it was gentler than before. Clint stepped closer to her and brushed the tears away from her skin knowing how much she hated to show weakness.

Drawing in a heavy breath, Natasha opened her eyes and looked into his, which had softened considerably. She wanted to tell him exactly everything Loki told her but instead, she said something she knew would affect the course of everything.

"He kissed me."

…...

Clint was in a rage and barreling down the hallway before she could stop him.

…...

Loki was just coming from the bathroom, having finished relieving himself, when the door slammed opened and Agent Clint Barton stormed in; madder than ever, his hands balled into fist.

The demi-god smirked. "Why, Agent Barton… to what do I owe this amusing displease- "

Clint's right fist connected with Loki's jaw, forcing the trickster back a few steps. The trickster didn't have the luxury of recover before another fist was smacking into the bridge of his nose.

"Ow!" Clint went in for a third punch, but the demi-god had caught his fist in the palm of his left hand. Loki glared at him. He pushed the fist backwards to make the archer stumble in the same direction. "Would you mind explaining what your malfunction is?"

"You!" The archer harshly jabbed a finger in Loki's face.

He shook his head. "It's considered impolite to point at someone, Agent Barton."

Gritting his teeth together, Clint charged Loki and had him pinned to the wall with one muscular arm over the trickster's throat. His brows knitted close together. He pressed him close enough for Loki to feel Clint's heavy breathing against his face, and for Clint to feel Loki's pulse throbbing against his arm. Neither one seemed to give a shit.

"You're a fucking animal."

"Well technically, I'm a mammal but yes, you are correct."

Clint slammed him harder into the wall. "You may have been able to play your tricks with me, Loki, but not her. You stay the FUCK away from Natasha. You hear me?"

"I'm sorry." Oh, he was having too much fun with this. "Could you repeat that?" But as Clint's arm pressed further against his windpipe, the trickster found himself struggling to breathe.

The archer pulled a balled fist back and was about to round Loki in the jaw when he felt two sets of arms tugging him back. Clint didn't care to see who it was; he was just angry enough that it didn't matter. He fought against whoever it was trying to hold him away.

"Agent Barton!" Came the voice of Steve Rogers, who tugged on Clint's right side. "That's enough!

As he was pulled away, the pressure on Loki's throat lessened greatly and the demi-god started coughing up hard, and trying to regulate his regular breathing pattern.

Despite the archer fighting against his captors, Steve and Tony had managed to gain the upper hand. While Tony may not have been a physical math for Clint, he was definitely smarter. Steve was able to gain physical power over the younger Avenger with very little issue.

When Clint looked back over his shoulders, he saw not just Steve and Tony standing there retraining him but also Natasha, who stood side-by-side next to Thor and Bruce.

"I didn't realize this was a fucking party," he sneered. He violently tugged his arms out of their grubby hands.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Tony smirked. "Making Loki a punching bag. Literally."

"Shut it, Stark," Steve shot the loud mouth a glare, and then returned his attention to Clint. The archer's chest was quickly rising in tune with his rapid breathing. "Explain yourself, Barton."

Clint stared angrily at him. "This bastard over here – " he started explaining, jutting a finger in Loki's direction, and completely ignoring what the demi-god said to him before. " – has been playing Natasha."

"Well that is just not true," Loki quipped, but received a quick back hand by Clint for his comment.

"Agent Barton!" Steve grabbed for Clint's arm again but the archer had yanked it away before Stars and Stripes could get ahold of him.

Clint glanced over Steve's shoulder to where Natasha stood silent with Thor and Bruce. Seriously, why did she have to bring everyone? Or did they just come to see what sort of carnage could take place and takes bets on who would last the longest? Raising a finger over Captain America's shoulder, he pointed at her. "_He_ kissed her."

Everyone stopped to look at Natasha.

"Clint…" The Black Widow lowered her gaze to the floor, either to avoid the embarrassment or to avoid his eye contact and the other judgmental looks directed at her.

Loki smirked. "Jealous, Agent Barton?"

Something inside Clint just snapped, and he didn't care who was holding him back. "Fuck it."

The archer disregarded anyone else in the room as he snatched a knife from his utility belt and spun around to bring the blade down into Loki's chest.

**A/N:** _Muahahaha! Another cliffhanger! Y'all will just have to wait to see what happens in the next chapter. I'm not quite sure how long I plan to make this story, but probably only a few more chapters. Sorry kiddies but maybe if you're nice to me, I'll write a sequel once I'm finished with this one._


	7. Bemused

GASPING FOR AIR

By spockslovechild

…...

Chapter Seven – BEMUSED

Let it be known that Loki Laufeyson was far from stupid. He was the very opposite; intelligent, brave. Things that Clint Barton didn't take into account when he pulled the knife on him.

The silver blade imbedded itself in the wall as Loki dropped. And the scowl on Clint's mouth was less than completely unrecognizable. His aim was always true. Always damn near-perfect. Others could say he missed his mark on purpose but that would be a lie.

And to think, they had come here to stop a potential fight.

Natasha pushed herself between Tony and Steve and reached out for Clint's arm. She felt his muscle tense under her touch and she thought for a second she should step back. But quickly dismissed this thought. She was Black Widow, a trained assassin. She volunteered to kick Clint's ass when he was held under Loki's spell, and she did so willingly because he needed it so badly. And she'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Regardless, Steve saw this as just another time bomb waiting to go off. It was just a matter of time to him of when it did. Would he be there to pick up the pieces? He reached out for Natasha's shoulder only to have the trained assassin recoil from his touch.

Neither of them saw. They were too distracted. Loki had pushed himself up the wall and charged Clint Barton head on. Putting his head between Clint's solar plexus. They barreled backwards between Steve and Tony, brushing into the metal tray of supplies and spilling them over onto the floor, and crashed into the edge of the hospital bed then crumpled to the floor in a heap. And Natasha, pinned to the floor under Clint's body.

Loki seemed unfazed. Once he picked his head up, he balled his right hand into a fist and brought it down across the Archer's face. Clint's head snapped to one side. As Steve came forward to grip Loki's shoulders and pull him back, Clint raised his head again and head butted the demi-god square in the temple. This left the trickster momentarily stunned. Steve was able to drag the demi-god away from Clint but the Archer climbed to his knees and pushed himself to his feet then kicked out to catch Loki in the jaw. Natasha sat up though parts of her body ached. Clint was a lot heavier than he looked, and two grown ass men thrown on top of her was more than enough weight to break something. She was sure of it.

Loki struggled out of Steve's grip. It didn't take much. He dove for Clint and the two wrestled to the ground. Bruce hurried to Natasha and pulled her to her feet away from the pair. Thor and Tony jumped forward. The thunder god wrapped his arms tightly around his brother's shoulders and tugged him off of Clint while Tony grabbed the Archer by his shoulders and pulled him up from the floor.

Steve stepped between the fighting duo, who each struggled hard against those restraining them, keeping them from killing each other. "Knock it off. Both of you." He was not in the mood for this shit. His eyes lowered to the struggling younger man in Stark's arms. "You're just always looking for a damn fight aren't you? Just got to knock something down just because it's standing in your way."

Clint wrested himself away from Tony's grasp. "Screw this crap." He walked over to the wall with the knife protruding from it, wrapped his hand around the hilt and pulled the blade out of the wall. Clint slipped it back into his belt then pushed himself between the others on his way out the door. He didn't want to even think about it. Difficult enough with the bane of his existence still breathing. Loki pissed him off.

Once he gone, everyone was either looking at each other or at the two demi-gods. Loki's breathing hitched somewhere in his throat. He looked completely fine. Physically.

Bruce looked over Natasha's wrist. "It's not broken but it is sprained pretty good." He walked away from her and grabbed a small ice pack from a mini fridge in the corner. "Keep this on it." Bee lining back to her, Bruce pressed the ice pack to Natasha's wrist then looked casually over his left shoulder.

Loki met Bruce's eyes then looked to the one nursing a sprained wrist because of his tussle with Clint Barton. A guilty sort of feeling bubbled in his chest. What the hell was happening to him? Loki shook the thought from his brain.

Sympathy, for someone he shouldn't even give a rat's ass about. But he did. She was in his thoughts. Loki managed to draw her attention before her brows narrowed. He knew he hurt her, god damnit, and he was feeling _bad_ about it too.

"Thor, get Loki out of here," Steve ordered.

Thor dragged an unwillingly trickster from the room.

Regardless of what was going on, Steve Rogers was no longer in a good mood. "Alright. The show's over. Everyone out."

"Aw, but Stevie-" Tony started protesting.

Steve rounded on the billionaire. "Shut up, Tony! We've already had enough happen today without your bullshit. Go play with your little toys." The look in his eyes was something none of the Avengers had seen before.

"Come on, Tony."

Bruce understood anger better than anyone. He recognized in Steve the same boiling fury he quite often felt in himself many times, and he knew better than to continue provoking a man already teetering on the edge. He latched onto Tony's arm and slowly coaxed the man from the room. To his credit, neither said anything to Steve.

Steve waited until they were gone before turning on Natasha. He was silent at first with one hand resting on the side of his hip with an unreadable expression on his face. She hated appearing weak. Even more so, she hated having the feeling of nothing she could do about it.

She looked up at him but neither of them said anything. Then Steve sighed, patted her right shoulder and walked out to leave her alone with her thoughts.

…...

Natasha didn't see Clint that night at dinner. So while everyone else assisted in cleaning up, she grabbed a plate of left overs and made for the gym where the Archer would undoubtedly be. And she found him as usual, standing in front of a punching bag swinging from a support beam, hands balled into fist that flew out in rapid succession. She couldn't tell how long he had been in here but it had to have been for a small while now. No one had seen him after he bolted from the Recovery Room. No one had gone after him either.

She found a small table not too far from him and put the plate of food there. It wasn't much but it was enough for a man with a healthy appetite. Natasha turned, focusing instead of the man swinging his fists at the bag, one after the other, as if he had something to prove. In his mind, he did. But he wouldn't have shared that with anyone. And Clint was far too wrapped up in what he was doing to notice that someone had been kind enough to bring him food. He didn't even pay attention to his growing stomach, or bother to acknowledge its meaning.

Natasha watched him go a few more rounds and hoped the smell of seasoned steak would lure him away from the swinging back but when it didn't, she decided to speak up. "I brought you dinner."

Another swing. "Not hungry." And another. Clint seemed so hell bent on beating down on the bag that he either didn't care she brought him food or didn't want to recognize his own hunger. His stomach was growling but his fists kept swinging. Beads of sweat had already collected on his brow. He breathed heavily.

Sighing, Natasha walked over to the bag and reached out to steady it. When it stopped swinging, the Archer glared at her. "You haven't eaten all day," she said. "And you've been pissed off for the better part of an hour. I think you can drop the ego for a few minutes to have a piece of steak." She pointed to the plate of steak and garlic potatoes. It had been Steve's idea, since he appointed himself in charge of the meal.

"Jesus Christ, Tasha. I'm not- " Clint continued pummeling his fists against the heavy punching bag until Natasha stepped up to its left and tossed her hands out to catch it mid-swing. "Fine." He shot her a brief glare then turned away from the punching bag.

The Archer unraveled the white wrappings from his hands and discarded them on a smaller bench. Then he bee lined to the table opposite him and grabbed a piece of steak. He didn't question who made it. And he'd never admit to her she was right. Clint was starving. He ripped off a smaller piece of steak and tossed it into his mouth.

That's when Natasha stepped away from the bag and opened her mouth. "How long should I expect you to continue being angry at me for?" Her arms crossed over her plump chest as she leaned against one of the pillars, pitting all her weight into her entire right side.

Clint blinked. "Tasha, I'm not…" Sighing, he dropped the piece of steak onto the plate. "What makes you think I'm angry with you? I could never be. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why were you avoiding me?"

"I wasn't avoiding you."

She countered, "Yes you were." Dropping her arms from her chest, Natasha leaned up and walked over to him. She lifted her hands to his jaw and titled his head until they were at eye level with each other. His face was red. "If this is about Loki- "

Clint raised his hands to hers and slowly dropped them from his face. "You were alone in there with him for a while. Who knows what else he could have done."

"But he didn't."

"He kissed you." He rounded.

Natasha smirked. "Yeah, you gonna do something about it?"

His response was easy enough; Clint grinned widely, then brought his lips down to take hers.

**A/N:** _Whew! Sorry this took so long getting out. I was having a difficult time deciding what to write. I think the ending kind of blows. I know I could have done better, but I got nothing._

_I'm sorry to say that the next chapter will be the last. So I wanna thank everyone who have read and reviewed this story up to this point. It's been great. If I can somehow reach eighty reviews before this story is completely done, I'll be impressed._


	8. Bound

**A/N:** _This is it guys. The final chapter._

GASPING FOR AIR

By spockslovechild

…...

Chapter Eight – BOUND

She could never be certain of what kept her awake that night, but something was rummaging in her mind and no matter every which way she turned, every position she adjusted to, she could never settle down long enough to shut her eyes for more than a few minutes. Natasha relented to finding that one spot on her ceiling and fixating on it; the rest would take over. Her head rolled to her left. The bright red numbers on the alarm clock read three am, two hours after giving herself to her bed. Fuck.

Natasha sat up and threw off her covers. She dragged her hands down the front of her face, rolling sighs over the roof of her mouth. She swung her naked legs over the edge of the bed and slipped her bare feet into a pair of pink slipper crocks then reached out to her black robe and tossed it over her shoulders. The Russian spy left her room and took a right down the hall.

The helicarrier was dark and empty. Everyone else was either sleeping or at least two quiet to be heard. Natasha enjoyed the silence. She reached the end of the hallway and stopped outside Clint's bedroom. She put her hand to the knob then gave it a twist and pushed the door open.

When she looked inside, Clint was sound asleep on his back; one arm draped over his stomach and the other trailing down over the side of the bed. A tall glass of half-drunken water and a small bottle of sleeping pills on his night stand. It had been the only thing to get him to bed. Many sleepless nights had plagued him for days now. It was the least she could do. Natasha touched two fingers to her lips, followed by a deep sigh. Better to leave him sleeping. So she backed away from the room and pulled the door closed.

There were two ways she could go; back down the hallway to where she came from, or around the corner, either left or right, down another corridor. And considering she wasn't getting sleep any time soon, Natasha rounded the right corner. She had no destination in mind. She didn't even know where she was going until she found herself standing outside a security locked door, only accessible to those with SHIELD clearance. Natasha had such clearance. She typed in the access code and held her breath as the code was accepted and the door hissed open.

If she was angry, she'd hit the gym. If she was sad, she'd hit the fridge. But where would she go if she had bouts of insomnia?

She stood silent in the doorway whilst looking to the opposite end of the room. What the hell am I doing here? She asked herself. There was no legitimate reason or purpose for being there. This was crazy. She should have just gone straight back to her room and forced herself to get some sleep. At least in her bed she'd be safe.

Here, she was vulnerable.

Natasha studied him from her spot at the doorway then approached him with caution. The closer she got, the more apprehensive she became. Until she was towering above him and her eyes were on his body. He appeared to be sleeping. His thin chest rising and falling evenly. From this angle, he didn't come across as dangerous. But looks are always deceiving.

She reached out to touch him, but recoiled and put her hands to her hips. "I know you're not really sleeping," she said bluntly.

"Very observant." No, he wasn't sleeping. He heard her come in and just pretended to be asleep. Just like her, he didn't sleep much either. His eyelids shot open then he pulled his body upright and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "So what do I owe the pleasure of this midnight visit?"

Shit, she cursed mentally. "I just wanted to be sure you were… comfortable." This was Fury's idea, until Thor could get him back to Asgard where he'd be put on trial for his crimes.

"Liar."

"I…" she swallowed a tiny lump in her throat, feeling uncomfortable about being in here, or so close to him that she could reach out and touch him. "I'm not here for a chat…"

"Are you sure about that?"

"W-What?"

Loki reached out for her hand. "You came here for a reason- " He smirked when she recoiled from his touch. " –and I suspect it wasn't to make sure I was 'comfortable'. Perhaps, you couldn't get enough of me in the Recovery Room?"

Her brows narrowed. "You're diluted if you think for one second I enjoyed you touching me."

"Oh but you did." Loki rose to his feet. "As I recall, you didn't even try to pull away." He saw she was opening her mouth to protest against him, when he raised two fingers to press against her lips. He could feel her breath falling against his fingers. Smirking, he dropped them from her lips to her robe. Loki wiggled his hand between the robe and her bare skin then pushed the robe off her left shoulder.

Damn you, Loki.

"No." Natasha lifted her hands to his chest, surprised to feel his breathing raged and labored. She gave him a push away from her, and then his hand angrily flew to her throat. He pushed her back against the wall, eliciting a groan from her throat.

"Admit you like it. You like me touching you." He could feel her pulse quicken under his fingers. He leaned in close to the side of her face and sucked her earlobe into his mouth. His breathing had become so erotic to her that Natasha had to close her eyes and force herself to think of other things.

Oh, fuck. Whatever this was he was doing to her was evoking feelings buried inside she didn't even realize. Her stomach churned in knots. Her mind reminded her of the kiss in the Recovery Room, and how her body had responded to it. She felt wet. And hungry, for him. But, no. She was an agent of SHIELD and wouldn't allow herself to be taken by such a monster.

"Get your fucking hands off me." The muscles in her throat vibrated under Loki's hand.

He slipped her ear from his mouth to whisper to her, "Make me." He pressed his lips to her throat and started seductively kissing her flesh.

Natasha's eyes started rolling back. She pressed her palms against the wall and fought to keep her breathing controlled. Everything in her body betrayed what she presumed she felt about him before; disgust, loathing, hatred. But what he was doing to her now, what she was letting him do, was unnatural. His hips pressed hard against her, his groin aching under the confines of his trousers.

She worked her hands between their bodies and pushed him away from her. Natasha readied a hand to slap him, but wrapped it around the back of his head, entwining his fingers in his hair, and drew him closer until their mouths were possessing each others.

Loki wormed his hands to her shoulders and lifted the robe from her body then pushed it down her arms. She found her hands lifting to cup his face as her mouth pressed harder against his lips, extracting a moan from his throat. He grabbed her leg and pulled it against his left hip. As she broke from his kiss, Natasha worked her hands under his light tee and pushed it up his chest. She was surprised to see how lean and built he was. Loki raised his arms above his head as the bothersome fabric was removed from his body and discarded to the floor. The trickster curled his fingers in her long shirt and pulled it over her torso. He tossed it to the floor then dipped his head to her chest where his lips peppered her skin between the swell of her breasts.

Natasha reached behind her for the bra clasp then let the thin straps slip down her arms. The trickster groaned as his lips fell to her right breast and let it fall into his mouth. Natasha's hand pushed between her body and Loki's, and reached for his trousers. She tugged the zipper down then worked her hands under the Asgardian clothing until her palms flirted with his naked hips. Loki looped one finger in her panties and ripped them down her legs. She pushed his undershorts past his hips and he wiggled his legs until the cumbersome fabric slipped down them. Loki stepped out of his trousers and undershorts then ran his hands over Natasha's backside. In a single move, he lifted her off her feet and pushed himself between her legs then thrusted himself inside her.

She gasped, and then drew his lips back to her own. He pounded into her, softly at first but then harder and harder still until she was biting her bottom lip to suppress screaming his name. Loki turned her away from the wall and walked her back to his bed. He dropped her down to the bed and immediately followed suit, as to not pull himself out of her. Natasha grabbed the sheets beneath her and bunched them in her palms, arching her back and moaning like a cat in the throes of heat.

When he eventually brought her to orgasm, she lifted her hips up to his until his entire body shuttered with his own. Loki's body continued to tremble even after he was completely empty. Natasha drew his head down her chest and curled her fingers in his hair. Her own chest rattled with heat. Loki cupped his hands under her shoulder blades and held himself to her, his body thick and sticky with a thin sheet of sweat, and her heartbeat thrumming inside his head.

What the hell did I do?

…...

They gathered together in Central Park to see them off. They all arrived in separate vehicles, along some had elected to travel together. Tony Stark pulled up in a fully restored black convertible 1991 Honda Acura NSX with Bruce Banner in the passenger seat and Eric Selvig in the back, Clint Barton in a dark red 2012 Acura TL Advance Package with Natasha seated next to him in a pair of black jeans, a tight red spaghetti strap and a long sleeved deep yellow jacket. Her hand in his, fingers entwined between themselves. He looked over to her and smiled, then lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against her knuckles.

Steve Rogers was the only one who came alone. Pulling up on the back of a modified black 1940 Harley Davidson motorcycle. The God of Thunder arrived in his usual style; using his hammer to fly. He planted his feet down on the bridge and released the arm he had wrapped around his brother's waist.

Everyone parked and bailed out. In Tony's right hand was a silver briefcase, the very same one that held the Tesseract. Eric popped the trunk and grabbed what looked like a hollow glass tube with two handles on either side of it. He walked across the bridge to join Tony and the others, where Bruce grabbed a large pair of tongs and used it to grab the small cube. Eric opened the glass container allowing Bruce to put the cube inside. Thor's eyes flickered to where his brother stood; bound and chained.

Natasha stood next to Clint, still hand in hand with him. She locked eyes with Loki, who stared right back at her. A shiver erupted down her spine as she remembered the kinds of things he did to her the night before. How he touched her and kissed her in the most intimate of places. The thought forced her to squeeze Clint's hand a little harder. Then she drew herself in close and whispered something inaudible in his ear. Whatever it was caused a playful smirk on his lips. Clint turned his eyes to her and leaned his mouth down to her lips. The trickster rolled his eyes at the site, since he could do very little else.

As the lid to the container rolled closed, Thor reached out for one of the handles as Eric and Tony backed away from him. The demi-god turned to face his brother; the container resting across his wrist, his hammer gripped tightly in the opposite hand, and silently prompted the younger demi-god to grab the other handle. Loki hesitated then muttered something beneath the metal gag over his mouth. His brother's eyes were prompting him. The trickster sighed and reached for the handle. Thor looked past his brother's head, and gave a quiet nod to the others, then a simple twist of the handle and he and Loki were gone.

…...

Natasha's eyes snapped open and her body shot upright, her throat gasping and clawing at the warmth radiating in his body. She dragged a pair of hands down the front of her face, and then realized one felt warmer and slicker than the other. Her stomach flip-flopped. Natasha threw off the covers from her body and jumped to her feet then bolted for her bathroom. Slamming the door behind her, she pressed her body against it. She looked at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, and her eyes immediately located the wet spot in her panties. Oh god. Natasha buried her face in her hands, having this overwhelming feeling of embarrassment.

But as it faded, she exited the bathroom and fled to her dresser to change. She discarded the panties she wore into a metal trash bin then pulled on a fresh pair. Only afterward did she have this feeling of dread wash over her. Natasha slipped her feet into a pair of back crocks then rushed out the door. She barreled down the hallway, passing Steve's bedroom on the left and Clint's on the right, and then rounded the corner to another corridor. Her running came to a slow walk as she closed in on the security sealed door.

Natasha used her SHIELD agent security clearance to open the door. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest. When the door opened, she expected to see Loki sound asleep at the other end of the room. Like it was in her dream. He should be sleeping with his thin chest rising. She expected him to rise up and tell her he knew she was there.

But the bed was empty, and he was nowhere in the room to be seen.

"Mother fu-"

**THE END**

**A/N:** _Thank you everyone for sticking with me through this whole story. I enjoyed every part of it. I especially enjoyed writing this chapter. I took pride in it. As always, read and review. _

_Until next time. CIAO! _


	9. AUTHORS NOTE

**AUTHOR'S NOTE-**

Hey all. Spockslovechild here. I'm super excited everyone loved this story. I put a lot of hard work and effort into making it something worth reading, because so many people these days are disappointed by bad stories and desperately want their fifteen minutes of life back.

This story initially started out as just a one-shot and that's how I intended it to be but when I noticed the reviews pouring in, I decided to include a second chapter but even after I did that, I knew it wasn't finished. So I kept going until I knew it was finished.

Those of you who reviewed the last chapter found it a worthwhile ending, and that makes me glad. I would hate to make a crappy ending and no one enjoy it.

I'm currently working on a sequel story called The Devil's Advocate. It centers mostly around Loki and Natasha but also features many of the other Avengers, most notably Clint Barton. Please take the time to check it out. And maybe even review. I would love that so much.

THANK YOU!


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